Animals which never die.--A Wonderful Tip to his Tail.--
Thunderstorm.--Swan's Nest.--Bearded Tit.--Reed-wrens and Cuckoo.
The next day they sailed down the Waveney, until they came to Haddiscoe,
and then, instead of continuing down to Breydon Water, they went along
the New Cut, a wide channel which unites the Waveney with the Yare,
joining the latter at Reedham. They found the channel of the Yare very
much broader than the Bure or the Waveney; and as they had a favourable
breeze for the greater part of the way, and there was plenty of room to
tack in the reaches where it was against them, they made rapid progress.
As they sailed quietly along, Dick lay on the roof of the cabin reading
a number of _Science Gossip_ which they had bought at Lowestoft.
Presently he cried out,--
"Do you know that there are animals which never die?"
The others laughed at the idea, but Dick proceeded to read out as
follows:--
"Will the reader be astonished to hear that there are exceptions to the
universal law of death, that there are animals, or at any rate portions
of animals, which are practically immortal. Such, however, is really the
case. I allude to a species of the genera Nais and Syllis, marine worms
of no special interest to the ordinary observer, but those who have
watched their habits closely, tell us of the almost extraordinary power
of spontaneous division which they enjoy. Self-division, as a means of
propagation, is common enough among the lower members of both animal and
vegetable kingdoms, but the particular kind to which I refer now, is, I
believe, peculiar to these singular worms. At certain periods the
posterior portion of the body begins to alter its shape materially, it
swells and grows larger, and the transverse segments become more
strongly marked. At the last joint, at the point where it joins the
first segment of the body, a true head is formed, furnished with
antennæ, jaws, and whatever else goes to make a marine worm "perfect
after its kind," and forthwith the whole drops off, a complete animal,
capable of maintaining a separate existence. Whether the process goes on
for ever--that is to say, throughout all generations--of course, no one
can tell; but if it does--and there is no reason to suppose the
contrary--then it is self-evident that the posterior portion of one of
these worms is, as I observed before, practically never dying. It is
simply fitted every now and then with a new head! In fact, the tail of
the first Syllis ever formed, provided it has had the good luck to
escape external accident, must still be in existence--a truly venerable
animal, and without controversy the 'oldest inhabitant' of the seas."
"It strikes me," said Frank, "that that animal would be something like
the Irishman's stocking, which he had worn for a score of years. It had
been re-footed and re-legged several times, yet he always asserted that
it was the original stocking, although there was not a particle of the
old stuff in it."
"What a wonderful tip to his tail some animal has got then, if that is
true," said Jimmy.
I cannot say whether the statement of the writer in _Science Gossip_ is
strictly accurate, for who can decide when doctors disagree; but it
seems plain enough that the process of generation by sub-division is far
nearer the longed-for perpetual life, than anybody has been able to get
to the coveted solution of the problem of perpetual motion.
"Do you know that the water we are sailing on is higher than the marshes
around us?" said Frank.
"Yes, and all those windmills are to pump the water up from the drains.
They look very funny twirling away all by themselves."
Early in the day they reached a public-house surrounded by a little
grove of trees, which gave an agreeable variety to the landscape. This
was Coldham Hall, and as the sky was clouding over and the wind sighing
fitfully through the reeds and the trees, and there was every symptom of
a violent storm, the boys decided to remain there until the morrow, and
then sail up to Norwich.
During the afternoon they amused themselves by fishing for eels, which
were biting very freely. The heavens grew black, and the thunder
muttered at intervals, but the storm held off until the evening, and
then as it was getting dark it came on most violently. The rain came
down in torrents. The lightning lit up the marsh for miles most vividly,
and each flash was succeeded by an intenser blackness, while the
bellowing of the thunder made the very earth shake. The boys stood at
the door of the inn, gazing at the storm and awe-struck by its mighty
power.
"I don't like the idea of sleeping on the river to-night," said Jimmy.
"The landlord has a bedroom vacant, and I vote we sleep here instead of
going on board."
The others willingly consented, and Dick and Jimmy had a double-bedded
room between them, while Frank slept in a small attic. As the night wore
on the storm passed away, but its mutterings could still be heard. Jimmy
did not like thunder, and felt very nervous while it was about, as many
otherwise brave people will. He could not for the life of him go to
sleep, and lay tossing about in a most uncomfortable state for half the
night, while Dick was slumbering peacefully. Jimmy could stand it no
longer, and got out of bed with the intention of arousing Dick, and
getting him to talk to him. He stole across the room, and by the faint
starlight which came from the sky, which had partially cleared after the
storm, he saw that Dick had kicked all the bed-clothes off, and lay very
deep in slumber. He touched him lightly on the foot to awake him gently.
To his amazement Dick lifted his leg and began to wave it slowly
backwards in the air, at the same time whistling softly. Jimmy was so
struck with the oddity of this procedure in a sleeping man that he burst
into a peal of laughter. Even this did not wake Dick; and Jimmy, having
now something to occupy his mind, went back to bed and laughed himself
to sleep. When he detailed the incident to the others in the morning
they would not believe him, but said that he must have been dreaming.
[Illustration: SWAN'S NEST.]
The morning broke sunny and with a wonderful freshness in the air, which
put the boys into the highest spirits. They sailed a little way up the
river to Surlingham Broad, which they wished to explore. They sailed
past the main entrance to the broad, thinking there was a wider passage
further on. Finding they were mistaken, they attempted to take the punt
through a narrow and sinuous dyke which appeared to lead into the
broad. They pushed their way along this for some distance until it
became so narrow and shallow that they could scarcely get on. Just then
they came round a corner of reeds, and to their dismay found that they
had come suddenly upon a swan's nest. The female swan was sitting upon a
huge pile of sticks placed on a small reedy island. Round this island
the male swan was swimming in a very stately fashion, and when he saw
the boys coming so near his beloved, he swam towards them, with his
wings and tail raised and set out in a way that unmistakably told them
he meant war. They hastily pushed back, but the punt stuck in the mud,
and Frank had to take an oar and keep the swan at bay with it, while the
others pushed the punt off and back again.
[Illustration: SWAN.]
"Pray, look sharp," said Frank, "I cannot keep him at bay much longer
without my hurting him or his hurting me."
"We're doing our best," said Jimmy, and missing his footing as he spoke
he fell into the mud and water.
"That's no help," said Frank, giving the swan a sharp poke with the oar.
Jimmy scrambled into the boat, and the swan, satisfied that they were in
full retreat, gave up the pursuit.
They went back to the yacht, where Jimmy changed his clothes, and then
went on to the broad by the proper channel.
Their object in visiting this broad was to find the nest of the bearded
tit, which Bell had told them bred there in great numbers. This
beautiful little bird is now becoming very rare. Its home is among the
reed-beds of Norfolk and Suffolk, but it has been so shot down wholesale
by bird-stuffers, and its eggs collected for sale, that it has become
exceedingly rare. It is a very pretty bird, having a long tail,
fawn-coloured back, and white belly, but its distinguishing feature is
that it has a pair of moustaches in the shape of black tufts of feathers
depending from either side of its mouth. Very properly, too, it is only
the males which have this appearance. In Norfolk it is called the reed
pheasant. It is very interesting to see a flock of them flitting about
the reeds. Like all the tit family, they are very lively, jerking up and
down the reed-stems in all sorts of positions, and as often as not with
their heads down and their tails up.
Apart from the open water of the broad, there were numerous channels
among the reeds which latter rose to the height of seven or eight feet
above the water. Along these channels the boys made their way, listening
attentively to the chirping of the birds, which they could hear but not
see. By keeping very still they could at length distinguish two or three
of the birds they sought, flitting about the reeds, and by the aid of
their glass they could perceive the birds with great distinctness. The
movements of one bird led them to its nest, and pushing their way with
some difficulty they were fortunate enough to find it. It was built of
dry stems of grass and sedges, and was placed about a foot from the
ground (or water, for it was a compound of both), in the midst of a
thick clump of reeds. It contained five eggs as large as those of a
great tit, pinkish-white in colour, spotted and streaked with reddish
brown, something like those of a yellow-hammer. While they were debating
how many of the eggs they should take, Frank saw a tit fly from a tuft
of reeds a few yards off, and on going there they found another nest
with four eggs in it. This was lucky, for it enabled them to take two
eggs from each nest without feeling any compunction.
[Illustration: CUCKOO AND EGG.]
They found several of the beautiful purse-like nests of the reed wrens
attached midway up the tall reed-stems. In one of them there was a young
cuckoo, the sole occupant of the nest. What had become of the little
reed-wrens was plainly to be seen by the bodies which strewed the ground
beneath. The poor little fledglings had been ousted from their home by
the broad-backed cuckoo. I suppose we ought not to call him cruel,
because it is the instinct of self-preservation which makes him behave
so badly. If the young birds, the legitimate owners of the nest, had
been allowed to remain, the old birds could not have fed them all, and
the young cuckoo must have starved. The boys watched the nest for some
time to see the old birds feed it, and they were greatly delighted to
see the way in which the reed-wrens managed it. _They perched on the
young cuckoo's back_ while they placed the food in its broad mouth. It
was the only standing room there was, for the cuckoo more than covered
the whole of the nest.
"Who wouldn't be a naturalist!" said Frank, "when he can see such things
as that?"
Dick replied, "I did not know that life could possibly be so jolly,
until I learnt something of natural history. I do wonder that so few
fellows take to it. I suppose it is because books make it appear so dry.
Books don't seem to me to go into the _sport_ of the thing. They only
show you the surface of it, and not the life. I will try to write a book
some day when--" and he hesitated.
"When you get more conceited, eh, Dick?" said Frank laughingly.
Then they sailed up to Bramerton, and when they brought up at the
Wood's-end public-house they found a number of old school-fellows there,
and the racing four-oar belonging to the school club.